One of the hardest par 3's we used to play in Maine. 200 yard straight away. There are trees to the right - a gully in front and a nice safe bailout area to the left.

One outing with the boys I hit a solid five iron into a left to right wind, my playing partners watched in awe as my ball dropped about two feet from the pin. Suddenly, before anyone could say, "Great shot", out of the trees to the right of the green, a maintenance guy appears. He walks over to my ball, looks up at us as if to say, "Tough shit", pulls the flag out, fills in the hole and moves the pin at least 15 feet away from my ball. We were speechless. He walks back into the trees, we hear a golf cart come to life and in a cloud of smoke he drives away. 

Golf is such a cruel sport.